


Highs and Lows

by libellules



Category: SKAM (Spain)
Genre: Bipolar!Joana, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, mostly implied but mentioned vaguely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 03:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18612622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libellules/pseuds/libellules
Summary: Years into the future when Joana and Cris are preparing to go to University, they have a terrible fight that leaves Cris broken and reminiscing about all the highs and lows of their relationship.





	Highs and Lows

_i can hear you whisper_  
i can hear that it burns  
and i know that this hurts  
love 

* * *

Screaming at their top of her lungs, waving her hands as is grasping at the air, lips trembling with fury, eyes illuminated in betrayal and desperation, Cris watched as Joana walked out the door. Unable to stand under the weight of her first real heartbreak, she sunk to the floor and drew her knees to her chest and then, in a burst of anger, kicked them away and let tremors shake through her body and out of her skin. 

“Fuck,” Cris spat under her breathe, and then louder as she realized Joana had slammed the door behind her, “Fuck!” In a final decision of body position Cris pulled her knees to rest below her chin and wrapped her arms around herself as a coping mechanism to keep the inhaling and exhaling process going. 

Everything had been so _good_. 

Following their first kiss that Friday in the park, following the notes hidden in Cris’ pockets or under her pillow covered in sweet, soft words of endearment, following her coming out and the immense support from her friends, everything had been so good. 

_”Follow me.” With more trust in the beautiful ring of a voice than Cris had ever known, she followed Joana across the road, lit only by the street lamps and the moon, as the ground around them seemed to hum in vibration with the music escaping the club they had just left._

_“Where are we going?”_

_“Do you trust me?”_

_Of course. Cris trusted her, so she followed her purple hair through the city, through alleyways and packs of drunken teens and young adults, through herds of people ready to begin their evenings out with friends, through lone men outside for a smoke break, and finally to a ladder on the side of a building._

_“You can’t be serious?”_

_“Of course! You’re not scared, are you?”_

_“Who me? Please, I’ve never been scared of anything in my life.”_

_“Sure, okay,” teased Joana, not taking any of Cris’ false bravado and sarcasm. It was an endearing banter they had grown accustomed to. It was comforting. “Come on.”_

_Up the ladder they went until the roof of the four-story building finally broke over the dark horizon and Cris’s eyes landed on the masterpiece that was this rooftop. As if she were a character in a romantic comedy, there were hanging string lights and large plants sprinkled across the edges, a short table surrounded by large cushions for chairs, candles scattered across the center._

_“Did you do all of this?”_

_“Happy six-month anniversary, my love.”_

_With a melting in her heart and a furious pounding in her chest, Cris pulled her beautiful girlfriend into a kiss as it was the only action that could begin to explain what the night meant to Cris, what Joana meant to Cris._

Six months turned into a year—when they took a cruise across the Mediterranean and spent a weekend in Morocco to celebrate—and a year into two years. Things had grown so serious that they were often teased about the anticipation of a proposal. Cris always laughed it off, they were only eighteen but neither girl was ready to bring up the possibility of having to say goodbye. 

_”Stop! Don’t leave,” Joana pleaded, tears threatening to slip down her cheeks and fingers reaching out in hopes of holding Cris back, of stopping Cris from leaving forever. “Let’s talk about this.”_

_“What’s there to talk about, Jo? You left. Okay? You fucking left for three weeks and never said a word.”_

_“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to leave, really. I can’t,” Joana cried, sobbing as she attempted to get the words out. Cris bit back her own tears at the sight of the girl she loved so much unraveling before her. She needed to be strong in her anger and not let the sight of Joana so upset get to her._

_“No. Joana, please don’t. I’ve always been there for you during the highs and the lows and I know you do things you don’t mean in the lows but, but Joana it was weeks and I was horrified that you had died or something.” A single tear escaped at the end of her sentence but Cris held back the rest, refusing her urge to wrap Joana up in her arms and promise that everything would be okay._

_“I didn’t mean to, I didn’t.”_

_“Your parents were so scared, I was so fucking scared, Jo. Where were you?”_

_“Please don’t make me say it. Please, Cris, you know I didn’t mean to hurt you.”_

_“Why?” Joana looked a little taken aback by the question, confused at the thought. “Why him? You haven’t even talked to him in years?”_

_“He just. I don’t know, I was with him for so long before you and before Eloy and he just said what I needed to hear, I guess.”_

_“Why didn’t you come to me?”_

_“I was so scared.”_

_“What were you scared of? I love you.”_

_“That’s what I was afraid of.”_

_“What?”_

_“I love you so much and it terrifies me because I don’t know if I can live without you. I needed to prove to myself that someday when you leave that I’m going to be okay.”_

_“Baby.”_

_“No Cris, don’t. I’m serious. I’ve seen the pamphlets in your desk about school in Valencia.”_

_“That’s only four hours away. Joana, I don’t even know if I want to go there.”_

_“I don’t want you to go and I know I can’t say that because I love you but, don’t go.”_

_Cris couldn’t take it anymore; Joana was practically trembling—she pulled her as tightly as she ever had in her life against she chest, feeling the painful chill of tears against her neck._

_“I’m so sorry, Cris.”_

_“It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”_

_“Don’t leave.”_

_“Never.” ___

__Cris remembered all the fights, all the make-ups, all of it: every smile, every kiss, every break of dawn waking up to a text from Joana with some drawing or gif or little emoji heart, every two am phone call half drunk or mid heartbreak, every time their hands intertwined. It hurt, it fucking stung. It was overwhelming and impossible and Cris felt Joana in every bone of her body, in every intake of breath and every tear that slid down her cheek._ _

__In the beginning everything _had_ been good, but slowly it had started to break away like a rug being swiped from underneath their feet. _ _

__There was a knock on the door._ _

__“Go away,” groaned Cris, not even attempting to quiet her sobs._ _

__“I’m sorry.”_ _

__It was Joana. Black mascara stains floating across her flushed cheeks, back hunched, uncertain eyes and all: Joana._ _

__Instantly all the resentment that had built up in their battle of put-downs, insults, and annoyances had disappeared. All the months of miscommunication, of hiding secrets about school and plans for the future, didn’t matter. What mattered was having Joana in her arms, having her lips in their rightful spot against Cris’._ _

__“I’m so fucking sorry, love.”_ _

__Rising up from her curled-up ball on the floor Cris made her way over to Joana, pressing her lips against each cheek to dry the tears, against her forehead to silently tell Joana that the fight wasn’t as important as the love, and then to her lips. Joana’s hands cradled the soft patches of skin under her jaw, her thumbs resting against the bottom of Cris’ ears._ _

__“I love you so much.”_ _

__“I love you more.”_ _

__Cris didn’t know what was going to happen when she moved to Valencia and Joana moved to Argentina. She didn’t know what was going to happen when years passed and they remained on opposite continents or when night after night would be spent falling asleep across facetime or spending thousands of dollars on plane tickets. But for now, and forever, Cris loved Joana. She loved her more than anything in the fucking world and to hold her close was all Cris needed to finally breathe._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Hehe couldn't stop myself from writing some light angst for my beautiful daughters after the complete masterpiece that was their kiss clip today! I mean, my lord what a damn good clip. These two really have my entire heart and soul and I would indeed go to the ends of the earth to protect my incredible little baddie Cris and my sweet little art angel Joana. I don't know if they're going to make Joana bipolar because, even though this is kind of an Isak season it's also really going in some other directions, but in this fic she is bipolar but it's not blatantly said so read it as you will. Also the song "Missing You" by Betty Who inspired this fic and that's where the lyrics at the beginning come from. Enjoy! (Going to populate this tag until Crisana has thousands of beautiful, fluffy, angsty, wonderful fics because it is the ultimate skam ship) Thanks for reading :)


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